“I have SO MUCH to share!”

I scoop up adventures on my runs like children do coins in fountains: so excited by each, and there are just so many of them, all valuable. Most runners are like this, I believe; if not, they should be; they can be. Running to work or home, I constantly catalog the singular, split-second scenes past which I move. I do this to later share with Laura, and always share them with her first, and sometimes pop them onto Twitter.

Now that I have, I can share with you the recap of my lunch-time run. I biked to work today (I just missed my bike) and used lunch to literally run an errand. Hopefully this handful of shiny adventures will inspire you to jot down those from your next jaunt. If run commuting can shed the day’s stress from your shoulders, it also can bring something bright, lively and lovely home in time for dinner.

— Right in front of the building as I left, slung from a passing car of thugs: homophobic slander and swear words! I work for the state; the Legislature is in session. All the suits turned to see. In a play from my friend Jeff’s book for dealing with irate drivers, I waved and blew them kisses. I am sure they were displeased.

— The wind blew a Hefty bag down the overpass sidewalk; I caught up and raced it to the end of the sidewalk, and I won. The loser went in the trash can.– I passed four dog walkers bound in the same direction, seven diminutive canines between the lot. I don’t think they were together. “I caught the Small Dog Parade!” I crowed, passing them. They laughed.

— A passing pedestrian couple stopped me, so that the lady could whistle and compliment my thighs. The boyfriend was laughing and smiling, and I didn’t get the sense that it was mocking. I have received this treatment before. A business woman also waiting for a light to change commented, “I have got to get some legs like that.” I thanked the couple. And they are pretty good thighs, you know? They help keep my pants from looking weird.

— A group of Montessori kids, out at a park, were playing kickball. One kid belted it; it sailed over all the others’ heads. They cheered raucously.

— (THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE.) I stopped to pet another couple’s lovely husky-esque dog. They informed me he was a mix; he had what looked like a burglar mask on his eyes, where normally huskies’ fur is all white. I said it made him look like a silent movie burglar; the guy, smiling, said, “That’s why we named him Coooookie Crisp.” This is the greatest naming since I christened our polydactyl cat, who appears to have thumbs, the Fonz.

— A driver, stopped at a red light, turned right without signaling. A cop, directly behind him, threw on his lights on and pulled that driver over, just around the corner. Slowest chase ever.

— I heard buh-buh-bumpin’ jams up ahead, and soon saw four fellows in front of a Mustang and Hummer mugging and lip-synching: I ran past a rap video in the making

— All this happened in the span of six miles, under leaden clouds fat with precipitation. I tore out on my mission, accomplished it, and returned with a handful of adventures just as it began to rain.

This is a typical sample of what I bring home to Laura, and that she brings home to me. Good luck on your journeys! What adventures will you share today?

Thanks! I seldom run during lunch, but wanted to ride to work and needed to tend to that errand instead of eating. I usually work through, too. But we would love to hear of some of your running adventures!

Stephanie, it was startling that the officer did so. The Atlanta Turn Signal is a critically endangered species. If you ever travel in, to, or through Atlanta, you will notice its absence. Drivers whose straight-forward course seemed so apparent turn errant, steering suddenly left or right. Their moves are anyone’s guess with the Atlanta Turn Signal in such low supply. Laura and I have been attempting for months to breed a pair in captivity: one left; one right. Hopefully we will see some offspring on the streets this spring. (Irony: the cop also failed to signal his turn.)

Most drivers I know merely remember how much they hate their trips to and from work. Or, as today, one or our staff who was stuck on the interstate for the better part of an hour: I am sure she remembers that, but wishes not to.

One day on my run commute i decided to count the number of intentional exercisers that I saw. I counted 4 cyclists and 8 runners/walkers. I also counted one man who was driving a golf cart between the work out stations of the Par course along the trail that I walk each day. He would drive to each station, perform the exercise, then drive to the next. Points for creativity.
And one day I saw a woman taking a small boy to school on a Segway. He was so delighted that it made me smile, too.

Dawn, that is great! I always wonder whether other runners and bicyclists will return my friendly greetings; I have never counted them, but next time I will! there is an Atlanta man who commutes by Segway. I have encountered him a few times. He looks like John Hodgman with a travel mug. It has been decades since I was a little boy, but I would love that ride just the same.